We Move Like Sharks
by ProfAT
Summary: An indefinite number of years after his high school senior class graduates without him, Renji has three things to his name: a bus pass, an apron with his name on it, and an apartment he can't afford. One fateful evening, a run in with a prosthetic eye leads to a rekindled connection to an old friend who Renji suspects isn't quite what he says he is.


**Author's note: I am still working on Cover Me AND Spoils do not question me I can feel your judgement from here.**

The last bit of coffee in the pot is disgusting, too rich and too gritty so it tastes like transition fluid mixed with gravel and they're out of sugar anyways so there's nothing to sop up the awful flavor but Renji steals it anyways. He does so purely out of spite, knowing that Ichigo likes a final dose of caffeine to kick him in the ass so he doesn't fall asleep during his morning classes. But Ichigo is also moving out of the apartment because he's too much of an arrogant, prideful, inconsiderate fuck-face to ask his dad for the money to pay the rent, and without Ichigo's half of the rent Renji definitely won't be able to afford to keep the place.

So Renji takes his coffee, because dorm-dwelling scum who under-utilize his resources at the cost of a dear friend losing his home doesn't deserve nice things.  
It's almost not worth it, because the bitter, acidic sensation makes his mouth taste like the view from the train on his way to work looks, which is awful and kind of gross. Winter is creeping in because no big, boxed-in city ever gets a proper autumn, so it's just row after row of tall, colorless buildings occasionally dappled in pitiful patches of gray frost. Try as it may, the weather doesn't stop people from going about their days and even his early in the morning people have filled the streets. The iron railways are suspended over the busy streets and alleys below like a black ribcage caging in a bustling circulatory system.

The train clatters along to the tune of somebody's headphones blaring too loud, and Renji knows he's heard the tune before but can't place the song so his brain occasionally bursts into scattered lyrics that get confused and jumbled across the plane of this thoughts. Halfway to the station, the person with the headphones hasn't gotten off, so Renji just presses his forehead to the window until the cold seeps in through his temple and he gives himself a headache as a distraction.

His forehead is still throbbing slightly when he checks himself into work. He passes Jackie on the way to his check-out aisle, noting she's wearing her black boots despite the fact that she's been explicitly forbidden from doing so in the past.

She hefts a basket of produce under one arm. "You eat before showing up? You're always crabby when you're hungry."

"I had a meal of sorts." Renji lies, not bothering to shield himself when Jackie takes an apple out of her basket and chucks it at him. He catches it as it bounces off his chest and gives her a glare even as he takes a belligerent bite.

"Don't piss off any of the customers just because you can't take care of yourself. I'm not covering for your ass if you start any more fights." She promises, like that's an apt excuse to pelt fruit at people. "Don't give me that look, dumbass. You know as well as I do that it's true!"

Renji rolls his eyes so hard they nearly slip back into his skull and retorts through a mouthful of apple. "I don't start fights, I respond to present threats with my incredible warrior-reflexes. Also that happened one time and the other guy started it. Also we were probably both having bad days and I forgive us for that. Also shut up."

She's already sauntered away to produce before he finishes his half-assed defense, but he feels better for saying it anyways. He likes Jackie, really, although most people would think he doesn't. She doesn't take anyone's shit and she doesn't let people under her skin, which are two grossly undervalued qualities in the customer-service industry. She's probably the closest thing Renji has to a work-friend, though she seems to have doubts that Renji is an adult capable of doing his own job.

Really, does she think he'll have difficulty at check-out? It doesn't take a fantastic amount of brain-power to stand at a cash-register sporting a hideously colored apron and glazed eyes as he asks people if they found everything okay.

It's not a glamorous position, but it pays the rent (well, not anymore, but it did) and it's solid and Renji has pretty okay job security. A few times in high school between waiting for the checks from his donor-organization, Mysterious Rich People In Favor Of Feeding Poor Orphan Kids or whatever, he entertained this fantasy that he'd pull his grades up somehow and get a free ride to college, find out what his passion was and build a long, successful career out of that. Some kids have wet dreams of being seduced by an attractive stranger, Renji dreamt of being seduced by an attractive future.

But things didn't pan out, and his worst fear came true senior year when his donors went and got their funding cut and they couldn't afford to pay for Renji's luxurious lifestyle of one-room apartments and too-small thrift shop shirts. Goodbye high school graduation, hello full-time job at the Happy Cabbage grocery store.

Things are a little more stable now, and his night-classes at the community college are going well. So that's something. It's better than a lot of other people's somethings, too.

Five hours of this pass, dream-like in the way that time seems too long and too short all at once. It comes from not having anything to absorb, Renji supposes, a full day of white noise without anything really meaningful to intersperse it.  
It's dark by the time Renji's last shift ends and it feels like he should be in bed even though its only, like, eight.

In the hallway, standing in front of his door with his keys literally millimeters from the lock, Renji hears Rukia's voice.

"You couldn't have stayed a little longer? You can't move out now, where's he going to go?"

Ichigo's voice, gruff in his stubbornness but with a strained twinge of guilt, responds. "I know, okay? But I don't have choice. My dad's clinic… business isn't so great right now. I can't take more money off them, not when I'm supposed to be supporting myself right now! I don't want to move out, especially with Renji so-"

He trails off. Renji's brow furrows in irritation. He could understand Ichigo not wanting to depend on his family, but how is Renji a factor in that? He's disappointed he'll have to find a new place, one that's probably more economical, but he's not really gonna be heart-broken over it.

"I'm worried about him." Ichigo states so suddenly it makes Renji jump. "All he does is mope when he's home, he's completely depressing to be around. I don't want to leave him alone like this."

"I was afraid you were going to say something like that." Rukia sighs, like Renji is a wayward puppy that flunked out of training school.

"Can't he stay with you?"

Rukia chuckles without humor. "Yeah, me living with one of my closest friends from high school who so happens to be a dude and has the extremely reputable position of being employed at the Happy Cabbage grocery store. My brother'd love that."

Renji finds that to be more than a little harsh.

"Fine, fine, point taken." Ichigo says, and Renji can practically hear him seething. "C'mon, Renji must have other friends, right? Other friends with a guest room or a pull-out couch."

"I haven't even spoken to him for a few weeks, I doubt he's been going out of his way to see anyone else." Rukia laments, "I'm worried, too. I wish I knew what's gotten into him recently that put him in such a funk."

"Do you think he's going to be okay? I mean, it's not like there's something really wrong with him, right? We'd notice if there was-" Ichigo theorizes and it sounds like he might say more when Renji jams his keys into the lock and kicks the door open and stomps in as loudly and obviously as possible.

Rukia turns and her eyes get huge the way they always do when she's been caught at something. "Oh, hey Renji!"

"You drank my coffee." Ichigo says in way of greeting, not looking even a bit guilty for talking about Renji behind his back- behind his wall more accurately, and Renji's not sure if that's because Ichigo doesn't think he heard them or if he's really just that oblivious.

"You're looking for someone to babysit me." Renji retorts dryly, and feels some satisfaction in the fact that Rukia sinks into her seat and Ichigo's mouth twists from a scowl to a grimace.

"Not to babysit." Rukia insists stubbornly, even though her cheeks are flushed with the embarrassment of being caught. "Just, to be around you. We didn't want to say anything, but you've become a real recluse, lately. Your behavior is scary!"

"Look, I don't know what you want to hear. I'm fine, alright? I've been busy with work and night classes is all." Renji says, gesturing to himself. "I'm an adult. I pay my taxes. I drink beer. Insert other mature past-time here. I don't need anyone to keep me company through my 'funk', thanks."

Without further adieu, Renji walks over the couch and sits down pointedly between them, wedging himself between Ichigo and Rukia and daring them to say more on the matter. He then demands that they turn on the tv and that's the end of that.

Ichigo moves out a few weeks later, and Renji has until the end of the month before he's has to either find some cash or haul ass too. It's a shame, he really does like the place.

It's small but could comfortably fit two people. It smells like the cheap cleaning stuff that he and Ichigo used to clean everything from the floors to the dishes. The curtains are thick enough to protect their privacy and gauzy enough to let white beams of light through on sunny days that bathed everything they touch in an angelic glow. Renji will miss it a lot.

He misses Ichigo too, but he'll die before admitting that. The fucker's called from his new-old dorm room about five-hundred times since he left, and scheduled about twice as many excuses to hang out (to keep an eye on him, Renji guesses, the asshole) but it's not the same as having another living person there. Not the same as knowing there's someone around who noticed when your morning rituals are off or when you sleep twice as much as you used to or when there are some nights you don't sleep at all.

"Hello, did you find everything-" Renji stops mid-mantra, blinking some consciousness back into his brain and trying to process if what he's seeing is real or just his imagination taking a turn for the weird.

"Hi to you, too, Abarai-kun." Izuru says with a gentle smile. He looks tired, but miles better than the last time Renji saw him. Then again the last time Renji saw him, Izuru existed almost purely in his own vicious cycle of one mental-breakdown to another, so any improvement is miles better from where Renji's standing.  
His hair is shorter, his eyes have a different light to them despite the dark shadows underneath. He's not wearing as many baggy layers as Renji remembers him wearing.

"Kira!" Renji asks, a little stunned because he's never actually seen anyone he knew at work before. "It's been a while, man."

"What can I say? I missed you too much. I heard you were working here and I thought that as long as I was in the neighborhood." Izuru shrugs shyly, "Don't suppose you have a lunch break soon? I'd like to catch up with you, if that wouldn't be any trouble."

"Uh, sure. In a bit, actually." Renji glances at his watch, feeling an ominous sense of anticipation and dread. As he looks down, he notices an indeterminate smear of brown on his apron that is likely from the meat section. "Catch you in fifteen minutes?"

Eating with Izuru and the deli across the street where Renji has lunch almost every day is surreal. It feels like there's a certain fundamental rule that Izuru has broken just by existing in the same vicinity as this place, and Renji's not sure what to do with that but feel confused. It's like he's opened a puzzle set and there's an extra Izuru-shaped piece. He obviously belongs somewhere, but that place definitely isn't here.

They chat about inoffensive things. Izuru is very careful to scoot around the subject of what he's doing right now but, as Renji has learned long ago, some people are just so happy about something they physically cannot stop themselves from talking about it. The topic twists around to Izuru's internship at a major publishing company.

"I mean, it's not like I'm getting paid, but it really feels like I'm doing something there. Even if it's just running around with papers and coffee, I'm enjoying work for once-" He seems to realize what he's saying and cuts himself off, busying himself with twisting around the straw in his cup.

Renji lifts an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

Izuru flushes anxiously. "Not at all! I just feel bad talking about myself a lot. Sorry, I've been ranting to everybody lately. Everything's just been happening so fast."

Renji chews on the same slice of cucumber for the twentieth time. There's a sensation in the back of his skull, like a temperature spike in his hindbrain. He's still wearing his work-shirt, cotton and black, all the better to hide various stains with. He hasn't washed it lately. It cheerfully announces his name over his heart, in case a customer needs to know who to report to management when they complain.

It takes him a minute to realize that the hindbrain-feeling is shame. He's embarrassed to be here talking to Izuru, who's a student and an intern, who's enjoying his work, who has a whole future ahead of him, who's already grown up so much that Renji can hardly even associate him with the scrawny, emotionally devastated kid he used to be friends with.

Renji has half an hour before he needs to be back in the store and put his apron back on, but right this very minute he wants to sink straight into the earth and never be seen again.

Izuru makes it a habit to come to the Happy Cabbage for his groceries now. Jackie knows him by name, and sends him in Renji's direction whenever he shows up. The company is actually a little comforting, preferable to organizing the seasonal displays and such by himself where nobody can hear his complaints and quips about his month's cheap-ass instant lemon bar mix.

Sometimes, though, Renji wishes Izuru wouldn't come. Having him there is like having Rukia and Ichigo's words hovering over his shoulders. He wants to take Izuru by the shoulders and shake him until he admits why he's here, admits that it's out of obligation so that Renji doesn't have to be miserable all alone, now he can be miserable with someone watching him push a mop around the linoleum and scrape someone else's gum off the floor.

So the thing about Izuru is that he's always shy at first. It's like a survival instinct to be socially awkward, even if the person he's talking to has known him since he was an itty bitty freshman getting knocked about into lockers like a leaf in a windstorm.  
Give him time enough, though, and he will blossom into a chatty, opinionated butterfly. As is the nature of things.

He also begins to makes a habit of following Renji around work for a good, solid chunk of the week. He's around so often that customers start asking him for directions instead of Renji, which is understandable because Izuru looks like a gentleman and a scholar and Renji looks like Renji.

Through this, Renji learns what became of the old gang from high school. Matsumoto is happily employed as a full-time nanny who specializes in the care-taking of special needs kids, and despite the draining work she still manages to be as bright and bubbly as ever. Momo is studying veterinary pre-med and Izuru is totally supportive, don't get him wrong, but he has a feeling that Momo's going to change her mind before she gets the chance to handle her first cocker spaniel's gallbladder. The winds carry Yumichika whichever way he allows them to take him, but last Izuru heard he was abroad in Europe on a job from an esteemed design company. Yumichika managed to smuggle Ikkaku oversees with him, despite the fact that the particular airline wasn't meant to be wheelchair accessible. Whatever. Ikkaku loves a challenge.

Renji listens to all these anecdotes, occasionally wondering if Izuru would go down the line of every single person they were friends with, or if there would be people that Renji would never hear about. He supposes, though, that if Izuru can't be bothered to bring them up they must be just as newsworthy as Renji is himself.

Eventually, though, he came to notice that there was always someone that it seemed Izuru should have mentioned. Should have been on the top of Izuru's list, should have been the linchpin of a fair few misadventures and a good handful of inspiring achievements. A crucial element was missing the way that the whistle to the wind or the dusk before dawn would be missed, the way you'd miss your own heartbeat.

Renji thinks to ask a few times, because he can't for the life of him figure out why Izuru wouldn't mention this one specific close friend. He wonders if Izuru is trying to bait him, somehow. Like this is some passive-aggressive mind game to see if Renji still has a few fragments of optimism in him to assume he wants to even know how things are going on someone else's end.

If it is, its gonna take Izuru a little more than that. Renji's become a practiced master at tuning out all the things in the world that make him uncomfortable and don't sit right on his shoulders.

It happens on the train. Of course it does. Because who's ever spent any significant amount of time in the city and doesn't have a weird train story?  
So it starts with Renji on the train just like nearly every day, on his way home from work. Home for now, he reminds himself. He doesn't have much time left with the apartment, a few weeks at the most. He's tried to look for new places. Well, he's made a step in the right direction. He's at least looked through ads in the newspaper, armed with a chewed-up pen that he grinds between his teeth before he's even started circling prospective future domiciles.  
It's nerve-wracking, because looking for a new place makes him feel like he's already lost the one he currently has and it's all happening too soon. He keeps noticing all the stuff that's still going to be here long after he's gone, like stains in the carpet from spilled food he can't remember or scuffs in the wall from when he knocked furniture against it.

Ichigo's calls come less frequently with him back at school full-time, which would be fine since Renji's still working during the day and meandering through his studies in the evenings, except Renji is literally just beginning to realize that he might be kind of incredibly lonely. He alternates between feeling unreasonably tired to unreasonably restless, vibrating with excess energy which tells Renji that maybe he should work on having a normal sleep-schedule again.  
The other day, he found the only possession of Ichigo's he's seen since the kid moved out. A thermal shirt his sister sent him in a care-package or something. It looked brand new and smelled like dust, and that didn't surprise Renji one bit- not because Ichigo didn't appreciate it, but because he'd just feel guilty using anything that someone went out of their way to provide for him.

Renji allowed himself one moment of inexplicable emotion, multiple feelings crawling up his throat and sliding back down into the pit of his stomach before any of them could become distinguishable from the other so he couldn't tell exactly what he was feeling. It might have been resentment, or nostalgia, or loneliness, or some combination of the three before he decidedly stuffed the shirt in the garbage and went about the rest of his day as if nothing had happened.  
Hours later, after the garbage had already been taken out, the crushing sensation of guilt reared its ugly head and sent Renji on a lovely romp through the dumpster outside his building in the frigid cold, cursing all the way, trying and failing to recover the shirt he threw out.

Renji doesn't really understand why any of this sequence of events happened.

But that's a different time and a different place, and it doesn't have shit to do with the glass eye on the train.

So Renji's on the train, right. It's pretty late by now, because Jackie was out today so Renji covered her hours on the graveyard shift. The fluorescent glow from the train's ceiling only makes the cityscape outside in the dark look even more sinister, a harsh glare in the corner of the windowpane against a dark, bruise-colored world outside, so naturally Renji is expecting this to be the time of night when all the freaks come out.

The train is sparsely occupied, beginning with him minding his own business in the corner, a harassed-looking woman on the opposite side hurriedly scrolling her finger against the screen of her phone, a guy in the row in front of Renji who's wrapped in too many layers to not look like a hipster wannabe, and a kid with a bike who Renji can't help but feel sorry for because not only does he have to lug the thing home in the cold but you just know he's going to fall into the street or get mugged or something on the way.

The one good thing about the train at night is that it's when the conductors are almost as concerned about the passengers as the passengers themselves are, and it's funny to listen to them try to throw out suggestions on how to get where they think people are trying to go. The voice over the intercom keeps giving instructions for how to get to the main roads, trying to shepherd the woman home until it halts its usual routine for a different announcement.  
"We may be experiencing delays soon, an issue with ice on the tracks has been reported and may interfere with our passage. We apologize for any inconveniences this-"

The rest of the apology is drowned out by a chorus of groans from the passengers. Disaster-Waiting-to-Happen kid drops his bike to the floor with a clatter.

It's hardly ten minutes when the conductor's warning comes to fruition, and Renji's world shakes and dissolves into chaos the way split-second mini-disasters always do. The train shudders violently like a wet dog shaking out its fur, and Renji's teeth rattle in his jaw before the train comes to a complete sudden stop that jolts Renji just enough to slip him out of his seat entirely and land on his ass on the floor.

Elsewhere, the other passengers are just as rattled, particularly hipster-wannabe, who hits the back of the seat in front of him face first in a way that looks like it's going to leave a mark and something drops from his form, bouncing across the floor like a ping-pong ball before landing squarely in Renji's lap and staring up at him.

There's about a five second interval where Renji can't do anything but stare back and think that yes, that's certainly an eyeball that's on his crotch.  
The five seconds pass and then Renji comes back to his senses, squawking with alarm and scrambling to stand up. The eye slides off his lap and hops across the floor again before sliding underneath the opposite row of seats.

"Goddammit, not this again." mutters the owner of the runaway eye, who doesn't spare Renji a passing glance before getting down to crawl under the seats like this is usual occurrence. His fingers spider across the floor like he's playing the world's most awkwardly arranged organ piece as his hands search for the eye.

That voice rings a bell in Renji's mind, stamping a name and a face into his thoughts in one, swift knee-jerk reaction.

"Hisagi?" Renji blurts, causing the guy to jerk and slam the back of his head against the bottom of the seat. He curses to himself before sliding back out, revealing a wind-swept head of spiky dark hair, and turns towards Renji with a premeditated scowl like he's going to tell Renji off.

Instead, his eyes widen and that familiar echoes back to Renji in the same surprised tone like a call and respond game. "Abarai?"

And Shuuhei Hisagi turns to face him fully with his expression transformed into a delighted smile and Renji can't do anything but gape back at the full sight of him because what the fuck.

The thing you really have to know about Shuuhei is that he was two years ahead of Renji in highschool and just about every freshman thought he just about was the coolest shit that ever graced the garbage can of their dinky little high school.

It was mostly because he was about the only upperclassman who gave fresh-meat the time of day. He did so reluctantly but made a hell of a lot more effort than anyone else did. Shuuhei's stellar grades, presence on just about every committee the school had to offer, and willingness to socialize with underclassman seemed like the mark of being really cool to a gaggle of naive, easily misled freshmen. They would only learn a year later what these things were really the sign of, which was being unforgivably dorky.

So with that mental picture in mind, one could imagine what Renji might feel to see that same nerdy kid from high school on a train in the dead of night, scrabbling for his glass eye on the floor and looking like someone had taken him by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face through a trash compactor.

"Fancy running into you here of all places! What is that, like a one in one-thousand odds you think?" Shuuhei grins jovially, ignoring Renji's state of shock. On Shuuhei's left cheek, plain as day, a big 69 in black ink sat just below the ridge of his cheekbone, looking almost glossy as if someone had taken a calligraphy pen to his face. A solid stretch of gray was inked above it, just under his eye like war-paint, but that wasn't even the shocking part.

Renji realizes that Shuuhei is expecting a response, and tries to re-gather his wits about him. He comes up with a blunt "Did your eye just fall on me?"

Shuuhei shrugs, "Hey, that's like five years of good luck."

"Really?"

"No, I made that up so I could feel less guilty about shedding artificial body parts on you. But you looked like you believed me for a minute there, so it didn't work. How've you been? You look good!" Shuuhei dons a lopsided smirk, which does interesting things to his right side. Three scars stretch down the length of his face like the trails of raindrops on a window, slithering from side to side in a slightly off-kilter manner, carving deep scars all the way from his forehead to the bottom of his jaw. When Shuuhei moves his mouth, it stretches the skin and exposes more of the scarred tissue, looking mottled and slightly shiny.

"You look… different." Renji says honestly, who can only beat around the bush so much. "Like, wow. I mean, I haven't even seen you since you dropped off the face of the earth after your senior year! Christ, give a guy some warning before you start dropping eyeballs on him."

"Are you gonna get stuck on that? Fine, I'm sorry. I guess it is a little rude, but it's not like it's my fault." Shuuhei admits with exasperation. He holds the glass eye between his middle finger and his index finger, and now Renji can see the prosthetic is shaped more like a shell than a ball, in the same slate-iron gray as Shuuhei's natural eye color. Shuuhei's expression his half-lidded, so only the barest slivers of fleshy pink is visible where his right eye is supposed to be. It is, Renji will admit, rather creepy.

Renji chuckles, trying not to stare at any part of Shuuhei's face that might be deemed too inappropriate. "What brings you around my neck of the woods?"

"Long story, to be honest. It's mostly boring, not worth the price of admission." Shuuhei says, and on some people it would sound like an obvious invitation for their audience to inquire more, but Shuuhei's little half-smile and quirky "aw shucks" eye-squint practically drips humility.

Shuuhei looks down at his prosthetic in his hand and brings it up towards his face before hesitating and bringing his hand back down to just clutch it in his fist and shove his hands into his pockets. He explains, "I thought I was going to do something really cool for a minute like pop my eye back into my socket and I would look all nonchalant and badass, but the floor is really disgusting and I don't want that crap in my optical cavity."

The rushed-looking woman and the bike-kid are staring at the two of them like they're total freaks.

The train grinds back into motion under their feet, and Renji is honestly disappointed because it feels like a cue to return to their status of ignoring each other, pretending the moment of reconnection hadn't even happened. It's only thanks to Shuuhei's stubbornness that they manage to hold a conversation, and Renji finds himself more engaged in interaction with an actual human being right now than he can remember being for a long time.

"I'm staying with Izuru right now. Y'know, crashing on his couch and other typical bestie stuff, so I'll be hanging around for a while." Shuuhei says, informational enough to be satisfying, yet cryptic enough to feel like he's not telling Renji the whole story. "Here, give me your phone."

Like an idiot who trusts people with his personal possessions without further questioning, Renji hands over his cellphone. He rolls his eyes as Shuuhei inspects the clunky, ancient flip-phone with a poorly-hidden smirk and plugs his number into his contacts.

"This thing is old as balls. What do you have, like 0.02 bytes of memory?"

"Nerd."

Shuuhei hands the phone back just in time for the train doors to squeal open and force Renji to leave the relative warmth of the train car to brace the real world on his way home.

It's one of those nights where Renji doesn't sleep, although there was a hazy gap between when he came home and when he found himself pouring the last of his raisin bran in which its entirely possible he dozed off. The conversation with Shuuhei keeps reappearing in his mind, snapping at his heels yet just out of kicking distance.

Shuuhei is staying with Izuru. Shuuhei doesn't seem like the kind to bother people by springing out of nowhere- well, springing out of nowhere on purpose, Renji will grant him. Ergo, Izuru must have known about Shuuhei being in town in advanced. So why didn't he mention anything about it? Izuru and Shuuhei were thick as thieves in school, but Renji always figured that when he was with them that made them something more, something bigger, like the golden trio or something. Did Izuru think he wouldn't care? Granted, Renji hasn't done a lot to give Izuru the impression that he cares much about anything lately.  
Maybe Renji just overestimated how important he was, as if he was entitled to that kind of information about Izuru's personal life. Like, you follow a guy around at work, feed him all kinds of prompts and details in which one could potentially drum up a conversation from, and all he does is feel sorry for himself because insert whatever reason Renji's been feeling sorry for himself lately.

He yawns into his cereal and thinks of leaving early to pick up coffee before his shift. He can't yet figure out how to make anything less than a full pot with the coffeemaker and it always goes bad before he gets home.

Renji doesn't see anyone during work. He's in the back, arranging one box of groceries to be stocked next to another and rearranging them. It's just drafty enough to remind him that he needs to go out and buy a new winter coat from a second hand store or something, or else keep piling layers upon layers of sweatshirts and flannel on. Whichever comes first.

Like a nervous tick, he keeps ducking his head out to the front, keeping himself on guard. On guard for the flaxen blond of Izuru's hair, or even for something he hasn't seen for a while like Ichigo's thousand-yard scowl or Rukia's tiny but commanding presence, or the echo-memory of Shuuhei awkward, teenagery gait trying to contort itself into an endearing parody of a relaxed pose.

No one comes, though, and one of Renji's co-workers (it isn't Jackie, so Renji doesn't care to remember their name) snaps at him to focus, so Renji slips back into the shadows and gets back to lugging boxes around and convincing himself he's not disappointed.

Izuru shows up the next day, and Renji now has three weeks on the apartment and hey, life's short so he bites the bullet on the mysterious case of the reappearing Shuuhei.

"You ran into Hisagi?" Izuru echoes in a voice like Renji told him he met a unicorn on the train instead of Shuuhei.

Renji tears a chunk out of his sandwich before answering, which he belatedly realizes may not be appropriate etiquette but if Izuru cares he's not giving any indication. "Yeah, we shot the breeze and such. 'Hey, what have you been up to? I see you got some tattoos on your face, I have some as well. Hope I'm not holding you up, I'm sure the 90's slasher flick you just waltzed out of is missing you right now.'"

Izuru pales in horror. "Christ, you didn't actually say that, right?"

"Yes, Kira. I really do have the social skills of a rotting animal carcass and zero filter between my brain and my mouth, you caught me." Renji shoots back. "C'mon, dude. Even I'm not that dense. But really, what's the story there?"

Looking a little put-off from the jab, Izuru huffs before replying. "I can't say he's been chatty about it, to be honest. I think he was in the military for a while?"  
He ends with a question, like he's waiting to be corrected.

Renji scoffs, lowering his sandwich slightly. "But he's a dork."

"Yes." Izuru agrees, "But that's what he told me and I don't have any reason not to believe it. So there you go."

"Huh." Renji says, because what are you supposed to add to that? Weird stuff happens to people as they grow up. Some to work, some go to school, and some vanish into the army and reappear a few years later all cut up and missing an eye.

Izuru eyes Renji suspiciously, tracing his finger through the frost of their table in thoughtful little swirls. "I could bring Hisagi around next time I come here. I'm sure he wouldn't mind seeing you more. Really, I think he'd appreciate it since I'm busy most days and I'm not sure he's housebroken enough to be left at home alone."

Renji can think of ten good reasons why that absolutely should not happen, not least of which is the prickly sensation in his hindbrain again. seeing Izuru at work is more than enough, what with his unintentionally provoking a lingering sense of humiliation when he's present followed by an odd counterbalance of melancholy when he's gone and all. He doesn't know how to add Shuuhei to the mix of that.

"If you want to, I guess."

This time Renji's ready. He warns Jackie in advanced that he might take half the day off and to just put his hours in for him, and since Jackie is cool and doesn't give a shit he's more or less covered despite her grousing.

So when his phone lights up with a text from Izuru with a brief warning that they're on their way and they're close, Renji practically rips his apron off and rolls it into a ball to chuck into the storage closet and ducks out the front door before anyone can catch him.

This maybe could have taken more foresight on his part, because he ends up barreling straight into Izuru, who goes windmilling backwards into Shuuhei, who topples down and it ends up with all three of them in a jumbled mess on the ground.

"Off to a good start." Shuuhei mutters with a dazed grin, and Izuru smacks the back of his head reproachfully.

They do end up hanging out, although it's thankfully not at the Happy Cabbage and instead at that one bagel place Renji is tied to through vague memories and also really excellent coffee cake.

It's a lot like being in high school again, which is a weird thing for Renji to associate his escapism to because he wouldn't turn back time to when he was in high school if you paid him.

Separately, Renji, Izuru and Shuuhei are all known for causing ruckuses in their own unique way. Renji is well aware he's kind of impulsive and obstinate. Izuru is moody and proud. Shuuhei is stubborn and about as good at reading other people's emotions as a sack of bricks. Together, the three of them are a match made in Hell and can happily argue for hours, shooting topics back and forth until they get motion sickness. At one point the bagel-girl behind the counter yells at them.

Weight that Renji didn't even know he was carrying seems to melt off of him, like a snake shedding it's skin. How long has it even been since he left the apartment for a non-work-related reason?

Eventually, Izuru gets a text and his phone buzzes to life with a chorus of cats meowing. He checks his message, not even dignifying Renji and Shuuhei's snickers with a response.

"I gotta get to work." Izuru groans, falling back so his head hits the wall behind him with a light thud.

"I thought you liked work now." Renji pointed out, stealing Izuru's half a pumpkin-spread bagel. Cuz, y'know, as long as he's leaving.

Izuru huffs as he tugs his coat around his body. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I like working." He plucks the bagel out of Renji's hand and takes a precise bite before addressing Shuuhei with his mouth full. "There's pizza in the fridge. Keep yourself occupied and out of trouble. Renji's in charge until I get back."

That's sort of how it really begins, Renji supposes.

"So I've heard you've become a hermit recently." Shuuhei begins. He says it in a conversational tone, but there's just enough of a teasing glint in his eyes that Renji knows not to take him seriously.

"I heard you joined the military." Renji counters, sounding perhaps a little more accusatory than he meant.

Shuuhei shrugs, twisting his mouth into a vicious little half-scowl and then smoothing it out like Renji just told an off-color joke at his expense. "Did you, now? Wherever could you have heard that obscure rumor?"

"You should know that he can't keep a secret to save a life." Renji snorts, satisfied that he seems to have won this round.

Shuuhei shakes his head, looking remorseful. Even when they guy is being sarcastic, he's too sincere. "Why did I ever let myself get caught within this tangled web of lies?"

"So it's not true is what you're saying."

Shuuhei balances his chin on his fist, looking at Renji like he's sizing him up before replying. "Yes, but a lot of things aren't true so I don't really see why the lie is so bad. And everyone lies about something, so it's not like I'm especially awful for committing some kind of unique crime. Don't you lie about stuff?"

Renji sees his point. Although in Renji's case, he usually prefers willful ignorance.

Massive credit to whoever made Shuuhei's prosthetic eye, because that thing is fucking ace. Most of the time Renji completely forgets that it's false, only able to distinguish the artificial from the genuine if he looks very closely.

It's hard to do so and look natural about it, because Shuuhei seems to have a sixth sense about whenever Renji is trying to study him. And before Renji knows it, the heavy gaze of those eyes meet squarely with his before turning away just as quickly and giving Renji the sense that he's being invasive, or maybe that he's been invaded himself. In a way, Shuuhei talks more with his eyes than with his words. Which is kind of ironic, cuz, yeah, prosthetic eye. His mouth can be a flat line, not betraying the barest hints of a smile or frown, but he'll have these huge baby cow-eyes that show too much emotion at once for one person. Other times his eyes are screwed up and squinting like he's sneering, as if you're spread and cut up on the dissection table and he's looking at all the disgusting guts and entrails inside of you, and unless you realize exactly what Shuuhei is doing to make that face it gives you an immediate desire to pick up a 2x4 and beat him senseless with it.

Renji has been in this category of people from time to time. But he likes the first expression better, when Shuuhei get's all doe-eyed and Renji wonders if he even realizes he does it or what kind of effect it has on people.

Renji loses the apartment, as he knew he would. He packs all his stuff into a storage unit and checks himself into a motel. It smells like cigarette smoke and bleach. There's a mysterious dark stain on the floor that Renji is apprehensive about investigating. It's so cold that at first Renji thought the window was open, until he realized the window doesn't open at all. From said window, he gets a charming view of a single scraggly bush and a brick wall. He misses his home.

"Wow, you actually have a job. I thought I was being lied to." Shuuhei gently mocks, leaning on a pyramid of tomato soup cans and knocking the first three levels over. "Oops."

Renji glares at him before stooping over to collect the cans. "Dammit, Shuuhei, we can't take you anywhere."

"Sorry. But man, lookit you! You've got, like, a real job and stuff. Your mother and I are so proud."

Renji doesn't really count working at a grocery store as something to be categorized as a big whoop, but whatever.

"You, on the other hand, seem to be completely unemployed and running amok all hours of the day." Renji observes, referring to the past few months or so when Shuuhei has been breezing in and out of the Happy Cabbage even more so than Izuru has.

Shuuhei beams in a way that automatically has Renji on edge. "Not anymore. I start my official first job on Monday. I'm putting my journalism degree to use and becoming a researcher for the city newspaper. Figure I'll work my way up the ranks. How soon do you think it'll be before I have my own headline stories printed out there, eh?"

"People still read newspapers in the city. How quaint." Renji mutters, before the rubberband of his mind snaps something back into place. "Wait, you've got a journalism degree?"

"Yeah, I went to university and everything. Where do you think I've been for the past handful of years?"

"Well for a bit I thought you were in the military."

Shuuhei gives Renji a playful punch. "Yeah, well. The fact of the matter is that I'm employed, which means I now have a dependable income, which means I can now afford to splurge and buy a home and move out of Izuru's apartment! This is exciting!"

"I'm vibrating with enthusiasm." Renji deadpans, but even he can't fight off the grin stretching across his lips. Watching Shuuhei be happy is cathartic, like watching a kitten with a ball of yarn.

Shuuhei dismisses Renji's comment. "We should celebrate this weekend, you and me! Izuru won't play with me anymore because he's a loser and also is working weekends at his internship, so it's up to you to amuse me."

Renji almost asks if Shuuhei even has other friends, but he doesn't want to risk robbing himself of Shuuhei's attention.

He does end up spending the weekend with only Shuuhei. It involved drinking and lots of bar food, followed by a hop and stumble to Shuuhei's new flat.  
It's barren, and inconveniently spacious in a way that realtors would call "modernly designed." Renji likes it.

Shuuhei produces beer from the fridge and the good times keep rolling, up until some distant hour of the middle of the night when they're both comfortably tuckered out on the couch. Renji's feet end up on Shuuhei's lap in a casual sort of "I'm gonna use you for furniture now" way. Renji's a bit more than a little drunk, lost in a cozy kind of alcohol-induced haze.

"This is a nice place." He says at one point.

Shuuhei grunts in agreement. "A little boring, but I'll make it work somehow. I think I could he happy here."

There's a beat. Renji blurts, in the way people who have drank too much do. "I lost my home. My roommate moved out… shit, I don't even remember how long ago. Some number of weeks? Months?"

"You can stay here." Shuuhei suggests in a hopeful tone, and Renji doesn't even have to look to know he's doing the big doe-eyes.  
The next morning, Renji is convinced that he dreamt the whole conversation. But he doesn't leave, and Shuuhei doesn't make any inclination that he wants Renji to leave.

A week later, Shuuhei asks why Renji hasn't brought all his stuff over yet. They both go out to the storage unit and he helps Renji decide what to bring and what to throw out.  
It's not a very long event. Renji owns a surprisingly few number of possessions.

"Can I ask you something?" Renji says one night in which they're both huddled around two boxes of pizza on the coffee table.

Shuuhei raises an eyebrow. "Is it about my face?"

"Are you psychic?"

"No, I just observe when people stare like awkward idiots."

Renji lets this pass, because it's not like he didn't know that Shuuhei knew he was staring anyways. "Dude, what's with your face?"

Shuuhei gazes at the opposite wall thoughtfully. He drags his thumb across his face, just over the 6. "The number belonged to someone else. My idol, actually. A famous war hero who, among other things, spoke up against the military over a big scandal a while ago. They were testing biological weapons, you see, which is a big no-no in just about everyone's book, especially since they happened to be testing them on location where a lot of people could have gotten hurt. The story got out and the operation was shut down, but they dishonorably discharged him. Last I heard, he was springing up around political and social activist movements."

"Is that why you said you were in the army?" Renji asks, watching Shuuhei carefully.

His lip twitches, and his scars spasm like a beat on a heart monitor. "Yeah. I think it's why I wanted to be a journalist, too. Y'know, track him down and get his life story and all that. I think that there are probably a lot of people out there who deserve to have their stories told. I dont know, that probably sounds stupid or something, doesn't it?"

It occurs to Renji that he can understand Shuuhei's motivation, his fascination with other people's lives and the great deeds that they do. But if Renji was in a reporter's shoes, he couldn't imagine a better story than Shuuhei himself.

"So what's with your tattoos?"  
"I didn't like my eyebrows. Things kind of escalated from there."  
"Ah."

Izuru comes for his groceries, and Renji has a question.

"How come you never mentioned Shuuhei to me before he physically showed up?"

Izuru's mouth twitches in a considerate frown, holding two different brands of chocolate puddings up to compare the prices. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" Renji insists, and he pulls one of the packages out of Izuru's hands. "You don't want that. It's always cheaper but it tastes like sawdust. Or so I've heard. More on the subject, you purposefully avoided saying anything about Shuuhei. Why?"

"I dunno. I thought you'd appreciate it if I didn't bring him up." Izuru admits, throwing the remaining pudding into his cart. He rolls on down to the juice section with Renji on his heels. Renji is not so obtuse that he doesn't recognize the irony of their role-reversal.

"That was your first mistake- I don't appreciate anything. Why would I have?"

Izuru pauses in selecting his groceries to give Renji an infuriatingly cryptic look. It looks torn between pity and disbelief and Renji does not like either of those expressions on this person's face. "I think you know the answer to that, Abarai."

"I don't! I honestly don't!" Renji protests, feeling enormously confused bordering on frustrated. "Kira, tell me right now or I swear I am ending our friendship."

"Are you saying you really don't remember?" Izuru sounds incredulous. He leans his elbows on the handlebar of the cart and if Renji didn't know better he's say Izuru kind of enjoying lording this particular secret over him. "You don't remember having a massive crush on Hisagi for our entire high school experience?"

Renji experiences an emotion very much like he did when Shuuhei's eye landed in his lap. The squawking noise he makes is very similar, as well. "I did not! You're fucking with me. Kira!"

Izuru smiles smugly, obviously pleased with Renji's reaction. "You were completely besotted. It was embarrassing for everyone involved."

And like a second-long clip show it all comes back. The memories of joining countless clubs and teams because Shuuhei was on them. Lurking around in the library to watch him study or hang out with the other upperclassmen. Trailing Shuuhei home after school like a lost puppy. Buying one of those cheesy anonymous valentines to shove between the slits of Shuuhei's locker when he was sure the halls were empty before sprinting away and hating himself later for it. Being pathetically heart-broken when Shuuhei asked Rangiku to a school function, even though she turned him down anyways.

And now Renji knows why he forgot all of these memories.  
They're painfully degrading.

Renji does in fact end up sleeping with Shuuhei. It's awkward and involves a lot of fumbling and its little scary because there's no person that Renji wants to disappoint less in the entire world, but it happens.

It happens like high tide against the shore, with a push and a pull. It's a touch paid for a touch, daring each other to go further so that they other can reciprocate. It feels like they're riding the same wavelength, tuning the rest of the world out to white noise.

Shuuhei is saying things that sound like words and sound suspiciously sappy and Renji lets them wash over him and basks in them. Renji's arms wrap around Shuuhei's neck and Shuuhei's fingers clutch at Renji's waist and they cling to each other like they're holding on for dear life, like they're the only things keeping each other grounded.

Renji realizes, in an epiphany-like moment, that he missed this. This feeling of someone wanting him as much as he wants them.

Shuuhei presses himself as close to Renji as possible, like there's no part between the two of them that shouldn't be touching.

"So about my scars." Shuuhei mumbles into Renji's shoulder. It's morning, or some time close to it. It's still too dark to tell.

After all this, Renji can't help but still be curious. He waits for Shuuhei to continue.

"I would have done anything to go be a 'real' journalist. The studies, the research, the degrees, all the stuff to back me up. There was this one university I really had my heart set on, too, though it was way out of my price range." Shuuhei explains. It doesn't sound like a fond memory, but his mouth tilts up at the corners of his mouth, like he's sharing an inside joke with himself. "I took out some loans from people I maybe shouldn't have. I guess it worked out okay in the end, though. I paid my dues. They leave me alone, now."

"What does that have to do with your face?" Renji asks in an undertone, although he already knows the answer.

"I owed a lot of money." Shuuhei answers. "And I wasn't good at paying my debts on time."

Renji slides deeper under the cover until he's eye-level with Shuuhei and kisses him. Kisses the scars from a risky mistake made from an idealistic dream, the tattoo that symbolizes Shuuhei's respect, his admiration, his loyalty. Kisses him between the expressive eyes, though only one can see him. Kisses him on the lips, and breathes something suspiciously sappy into them.

An indefinite amount of time later, Renji ends his employment at the Happy Cabbage grocery store.

He's not in any rush to find a new job, though. Shuuhei's recent promotion can easily provide for the two of them. Renji met up with Rukia and a few others last night and she made a crack about him becoming a full-time house-husband, but Renji imagines going a little crazy if he was at home all day. They just got that wall repainted, after all, and it'd be a shame if Renji lost his marbles from doing nothing but pottering about from room to room until he was painting hieroglyphics on the wall with his own blood or something.

The sun catches through the window, trickling through the cover of the curtains. Renji wakes up beside a fresh cup of coffee, a warm body beside him, and a hand running through his hair. It's too early to get out of bed, but that's just fine. It's a long, winding road ahead, but there's more than enough time for the whole trip.


End file.
